No Surrender
by Aggie Escott
Summary: A series of apparently random killings get the team's attention. Hotchner centric. May have to put the rating up later. Possible AH/OFC Noncon. Thank you for reviewing.
1. Seventh

**NO SURRENDER  
**Chapter 1  
Seventh

_**Revenge is a dish best served cold – Klingon proverb**_

It had been a long and stressful recovery for both Hotch and Reid. At their lowest point, they both put their notices in to quit the FBI, fortunately for the FBI, not at the same time so they managed to talk each other out of it. They had been back at work now for a week and it was quiet.

Too quiet for Hotch. He couldn't understand Emily. While he was ill, she visited every day, and he could remember her reading to him when he was unconscious. But now, she wasn't interested again. He watched her from his vantage point. She had hardly looked at him since he'd been back at work. All he could think was that it was the danger that attracted her and when he was safe, she lost interest.

He couldn't take that. He decided there and then not to pursue a relationship with her for a while. He turned his attention to Reid. He was absorbed in his notes. Writing furiously his own or maybe Morgan's – it was no secret that he wrote most of Morgan's notes up for him. He couldn't really keep that a secret, he didn't even try to disguise his writing. Not that it really mattered. Morgan knew what the notes said, and that was the most important thing, not who actually wrote them.

David Rossi walked across the bullpen and said something to Emily. He was walking a little stiffly today, his back was probably hurting. It had been touch and go whether he would be able to walk again after the shot in the back and the bullet lodged so close to his spine. But he had risked the operation, and it paid off. Just sometimes, Aaron could see pain in his eyes when he moved.

Aaron himself was still on crutches. For a while it seemed as if he would be back at work in a wheelchair again, but he refused to take that backward step, and struggled with the pain.

He looked down at his wrist. It was likely that he would have a scar there for the rest of his life, to remind him of how he tried to take his own life. It really had felt like the right thing to do at the time, but now he could see that Lowe had planned his and Reid's death, and even if he, Aaron, had succeeded in his bid for suicide, Reid would still have died.

He still missed Haley. Before she was killed, he saw very little of her, but knowing she was there gave him hope. Now that was gone. Jack was with Jess now on a permanent basis, and he planned to visit her this coming weekend. She still lived close by, and it was nice that Jack was within reach again, but he wished Haley was still around. He still loved her.

The phone on his desk rang, and he hobbled across his office to his chair to take it.

It was JJ. They had a case.

-0-0-0-

Six dead New Yorkers, four men, two women, three black, three white, aged sixteen to sixty four. At first glance they had nothing in common. None of them gang related, although the method of killing was drive by. They were killed in six separate incidents over seven days – no one was killed on the sixth day.

"So how are these connected?" Reid asked what everyone else was thinking.

"They were all hit at eleven at night. At first the NYPD thought it was a co-incidence, but when the sixth went down, they decided to call us."

"Were the victims alone when they were shot, or were they in a group, and are there any eye witnesses?" Hotch asked.

"Three were alone, three were in groups. No one else was hit, and no one saw anything." JJ said.

"Well, we need to jog their memories. Wheels up in five."

-0-0-0-

Victim no. 1  
Wayne Harris Black male aged sixteen outside a pub with group of friends

Victim no. 2  
Mel Clifton White Female aged thirty eight walking home with her children

Victim no. 3  
Salisha Merstein Black female aged twenty two walking home alone

Victim no. 4  
Winton Camber Black male aged sixty four walking home with group of male friends

Victim no. 5  
Peter Ruben White male aged fifty outside his house alone

Victim no. 6  
Sara Fitz-Gerald White female aged twenty nine in her garden alone

-0-0-0-

There was no escalation, nothing to connect the victims, all shot with different guns. Apart from the times of death, there didn't seem to be anything connecting them. Hotch faxed the list to Garcia to do some deep checking on.

"Anything at all you can find. There has to be a reason for the UnSub to target these people."

"I'll tear their lives apart. If it's there, I'll find it." she answered.

Hotch leaned his crutches against the bulkhead and sat down opposite Dave.

"You having a bad day, Dave? I can see you are in pain"

"No worse that usual, Aaron." He said. "Why do you ask?"

"I watch my team. I can tell if one of my team is in pain. It's written in your eyes."

"Well, ok then." He admitted with a sigh. "It is worse than usual today." He raised his hand as Hotch was about to speak. "If I didn't think I could handle it, I wouldn't be here. And you are a fine one! Do you mean to tell me you have no pain?"

Hotch grinned at him. "Touché." he said, and picked up his crutches and went to sit with Reid.

Reid gave him a dazzling smile.

"How are your legs, Hotch?" he asked genuinely.

"I'm coping." Hotch said. "I've come to check you out. Your hands......how are they?"

Reid held his hands up palms out, and flexed his fingers. "Pretty good, al things considered!" he said.

"Do they hurt?" Hotch asked.

"Not really. Only if they get cold." He said. "They are fine."

"And your ankles?"

"Fine too." He went to put his foot on the table that was between them. Hotch raised his eye brows – the closest they would see to a laugh on their way to a case. Reid put his hand over Hotch's.

"Really, Hotch. How are you doing?"

"Don't worry about me, Spencer. How I am won't affect the case. I will be keeping out of the field." He kept his hand where it was for a second or two, then gently slid it out from beneath Reid's hand. "We are about to land."

Hotch pulled the seat belt across his hips and Reid did the same. This was an extraordinary case. They needed all their faculties.

-0-0-0-

LAPD was ready for them. It made a change that there was no hostility or disbelief in their usefulness. They had a room put aside for them, and hotel rooms booked. They were asked if they wanted to go to the hotel first.

"We really want to get started as soon as possible, please." Hotch said."Maybe you could drive me and Morgan around the crime scenes. I would like addresses for the families of the victims. Agent's Prentiss and Jareau will be visiting them. Reid and Rossi will be staying here to work up a geographic profile. They will need maps of the area to work with."

"I'll drive you." The detective said, handing Hotch a set of keys. "There is a car set aside for your Agents to use."

"Thank you." Hotch said, passing the keys to JJ. "Let's get started then."

-0-0-0-

It didn't take long to view the crime scenes. The police had photographs, but Hotch liked to see for himself. There was nothing to show that there had been murders at the scenes except holes in the pub wall where the bullets had fired at Wayne Harris. When they got back, JJ and Emily were out interviewing the families, Reid and Rossi were marking up a map spread out on the table. They had a transparent sheet over the map and Reid was marking out the places where the victims lived, and where they died.

"In this case", Reid said, "I think there's a lot to be gained from a geo-profile."

Rossi nodded. "There doesn't seem to be much else to go on."

"What have you got so far?" Hotch asked, looking at the map.

"The events occurred evenly spaced." Reid pointed to them. "But taken together, they form and arc. Now if the UnSub travels out of his area to kill, then the chances are the UnSub lives or works in this area." Reid pointed to the apex of the segment subtended by the arc. "Of course, that is a wide area."

"Also," Rossi said, "The patterns seem to indicate that the victims were random, and the place is the important factor."

"Can we predict the site of the next attack?" Morgan asked.

"Anywhere along this circle. If there is a pattern to their choice of locations, likely around here." Reid pointed to an area along the arc. "We need more data."

"Which means more victims." Hotch sighed. "Tonight at eleven. "

-0-0-0-

When Emily and JJ came back they had nothing to report. It really did seem as if the victims were random.

Hotch decided to let the cops have what they had garnered so far.

It was a short briefing, since they didn't have much to tell them. The sixth day did have a shooting, but by some miracle, no-one was hit. Reid added it to the geo-profile he had drawn up, and it supported what they had already said. The detective in charge decided to put unmarked cars randomly across the streets that Reid showed them, although they would be extremely lucky to catch the UnSub like that. The six team members also took cars and took up positions along the arc.

At ten fifty, twelve cars were scattered around the spaces in the arc. The Detective in charge had everyone call in their positions when they were ready.

Now it was a waiting game.

-0-0-0-

Someone smiled as one of the cars pulled up opposite the cafe.

Tick tock

So easy. So predictable.

The person had a photograph on their lap, hidden where the waitress couldn't see it. The coffee was good, and a couple of refills helped pass the time, although it was surprising that the car hadn't been in position earlier.

Tick

And it was the right person in the car too. It couldn't have been better!

Tock

The person watched as the car occupant called in on the radio, and giggled, thinking of what the next message would be.

The gun felt heavy in the kangaroo pocket of the top, sagging down, and it seemed so obvious that it was a gun, but no one seemed to notice or care.

Cool blue grey metal. The hand reached in the pocket and caressed the barrel, shaking slightly in anticipation.

Tick

Almost eleven.

Tock

The face in the photograph stared back up. Even in the picture the eye looked strange.

Strange but beautiful.

Tick

How easy it was to bring the plan together

Lips pressed to the photograph and it was folded and slipped into the pocket with the gun.

Tock

Two minutes to eleven – pay the bill and leave the cafe

Tick

Time to go

Tock

-0-0-0-

It was quiet. Eleven o'clock, and no cars screeching around the corner and opening fire. Someone was crossing the road in front of the car. He watched carefully. This person could well become the next victim. He glanced in the mirror, watching for approaching vehicles. As he did so, he spoke into his phone.

"All quiet here." He reported.

Had he been looking ahead, he would have seen the flash on the street light on the metal gun, and seen a silencer being screwed onto the barrel. As it was he turned just in time to see the weapon raised and fired. The windscreen before him cracked in a star shape as the bullet passed through it and into his chest. The mobile phone slipped from his shaking fingers, and his hand covered the wound in his chest. He wanted to call the team, and, struggling to keep conscious, he whispered,

"Help me......." and passed out.


	2. True Love and Tenderness

**NO SURRENDER  
**Chapter 2  
True Love and Tenderness 

_**I plead insanity – song by Belinda Carlisle**_

_I had really loved Mase – that's what I called him!- although he didn't even know I existed. I watched him from a distance, and took the photographs that I have stuck into a big scrap book with all the newspaper cuttings of his crimes. I touched him once, you know, but he didn't know it was me. It was in the supermarket. I had followed him there and watched as he put things in his trolley. I went up close because I wanted to see what he had bought, and just as I got there he took a step back and trod on my foot. It really hurt, but the thing was, he touched my bare arm, and sent shivers through me. I was more careful after that though, in case he remembered me._

_Yes that was the only time we ever touched, in my waking hours at least. When I sleep he visits my dreams – he still does even though he has died._

_I can't believe he has gone. There isn't even a grave I can visit. I don't know where he is. Now I'm starting to cry again._

_But the man responsible for the death of my lover will pay – my god will he pay!_

_I planned it carefully. I killed random people in an arc shape, with some obvious spots where I would hit next. I knew that the one responsible for his death would have to be involved, and I profiled him! Yes, me! I'm not so stupid, and I calculated the most likely place he would wait, and got it down to two. I struck lucky when he turned up. Shooting him was such a joy. A point two two in the chest – just enough to slow him down, but not kill him. Oh god no. I don't want him dead. Not yet anyway. We can play games first, and have some fun!_

-0-0-0-

The cars were recalled at eleven ten. There was no drive by tonight, and most of the returning drivers were confused by this.

"The UnSub knew we were here." Reid said to Morgan as they made their way back up to the incident room. "Maybe they will hold off until we go."

"If that's true then good. The city is safe while we are here." He answered. "But I have a feeling there's more to it than that."

"I agree. It was just a thought." Reid said. "Where's Hotch?"

"Not back yet. I'll try and contact him."

Going up the stairs they were met by Detective Mercott.

"We can't get in touch with Agent Hotchner." He said. "We tried to recall him, and he's not answering."

Reid and Morgan glanced at each other. "Where was he waiting?" Reid asked, entering the incident room.

"Just here." Detective Mercott said indicating one of the coloured dots on the map. "The place we thought to be the most likely target."

"Let's get back there." Morgan said. "Please continue to try to recall him. We'll go and check he's ok."

"Probably he's in a cold spot. There are a few in town."

_He's not..... we were talking to him up to ten fifty five....._

Reid and Morgan drove silently to the place where Hotch was staked out. The car was still there. As they drew closer, they saw that the driver's door was open, and there was no-one in the car.

"Crap!" Morgan said, pulling up beside Aaron's car. "Where is he?"

"Hotch wouldn't leave the car while on a stake out." Reid said worriedly. "He must have had a good reason to leave."

"And there's the reason." Morgan said, leaning into the car. "Blood on the arm rest." He pointed to a broken crutch in the gutter. "Blood and hair. Dark hair."

"What is that there?" Reid said, reaching in and taking a sheet folded of paper off the passenger's seat. Unfolding it, he said, "It's a photograph."

Morgan shone a torch onto the picture.

"Oh my god........ Look who it is!"

"It's either Mason Lowe or someone remarkably similar." Reid said.

"It's Lowe. But he's dead!"

"So who has done this?" Reid said. "Did he have any family?"

"Only the older sister, and I can't imagine she would be able to kill all those people, from reading the report she was a little slow."

"Well, someone wants revenge" Reid said "There isn't much blood, so he's probably still alive. We need the CSU on this."

Morgan took out his phone.

"I'll call Mercott." Reid said. "Then I'll call the team together. Rossi will want to be on this."

"No question." Morgan said, stabbing at his phone. "Come on, answer!"

-0-0-0-

_I watched him claw at his chest. Not a great deal of damage, but enough to incapacitate. He slumped sideways in the seat across the centre console._

"_Hotchner." I smiled. "If you hadn't been the cause of my Mase's death, I could almost love you!"_

"_Mase?" was all he said. "Who ......?"_

_I showed him the photograph. "This is my lovely Mase." I said and folded the picture up and put it on the other seat. Then I removed Hotchner's seat belt, and dragged him out by the feet. I got one of his crutches out of the back and broke it across his head. He went to sleep then. My van was just around the corner. I thought there were probably security cameras around, so I had covered up the licence plate and kept my head down._

_Hotchner looked like he was asleep, sitting in the gutter leaning on his car. If it wasn't for the blood on his chest that is. I checked for the bullet, but there was no exit wound, so I was safe there._

_I pulled him up against me and dragged him to the van. Anyone seeing the security tape would have thought he was drunk and I was taking him out of his car._

_He smelled of shampoo and after shave, and for a moment there I felt a rush of betrayal because I quite fancied him really. That was when I decided I was going to keep him alive for a long time._

_There was a blanket in the back of my van, and I wrapped him in it. When we get back, I thought, I would stitch his wound, and hang him up ready to play._

_Ahh but he did look lovely lying there in the back of the van. I wanted to play right away, but I'd have to fix him first. It shouldn't take long_

-0-0-0-

Hotch didn't wake up when she probed the wound trying to find the bullet. She tore the hole bigger, and he twitched in his unconscious state. He moaned in his sleep as she pushed the tweezers into the hole. The bleeding increased as she poked around inside him. She wasn't able to reach the bullet – it was too deep in his chest, so she pulled out the tweezers and stitched the little hole in his chest. She caressed him gently, liking him more and more, wishing she didn't have to kill him. She took his glasses off him and threw them into the corner of the room, then she tied his hands together and using a hook in the ceiling of her basement as a pulley, hauled him up off the floor so that his feet were still touching the ground. Then as she poured iodine on the wound, he woke with a scream.

Slowly Hotch realised what had happened. The burning in his chest recalled to him the firing of the hand gun through the window. His head throbbed and he assumed he had been hit, and his shoulders ached since his legs were still not strong enough to take his weight for long without excruciating pain, and the weight was being taken by his arms.

"What do you want me for?" he asked the woman standing in front of him with the iodine bottle in her hand. She smiled and Hotch tried not to recoil from her. Her teeth were rotten, and her breath was foul. "Why have you done this? Please release me now because I am a Federal Agent, and you could be in a lot of trouble. If you release me now, I'll say you were co-operative."

"I can't release you." the woman said. "I brought you here to kill you because you are responsible for killing the man I love. But now, I think you might love me. I can't let you go though. I need you here."

She was a small woman, and to reach his lips, she carried a chair and placed it in front of him. Standing on the chair she pressed her lips hard on his, probing his mouth with her tongue. He tried to pull away but she held him around his bare chest and sucked at him. When she pulled back and smiled at him, he heaved and desperately fought off being sick. He wasn't so shallow as to dislike fat women, but this woman smelt and tasted as if she never washed. Her hair smelled of grease and dirt, and he sucked in clean air to try to rid himself of the taste and odour of her.

He coughed, and he couldn't stop it as his stomach twisted and he was sick on the floor in front of him. The stitches in his chest tore as he heaved.

She looked at him in anger, and smacked his face as hard as she could. He bit his tongue and his teeth caught the inside of his mouth. Blood ran from his lips in a thin trickle.

"Look what you have done!" she yelled. "Now I have to clean it up. Don't offer to help! I'm not untying you. You can stay there tonight. I was going to take you to my bed, but as a punishment you can stay there. I'll clean up this mess in the morning. And I have to sew you up again"

She picked up a thick sewing needle and heavy thread from the table. He looked on wide eyed with horror.

"No no please, leave it!"

Breaking off a piece with her teeth, she threaded the needle and holding the sides of the wound proud of his skin, stuck the needle through and back. He cried out as the thread pulled through his flesh and she stuck it through again.

"Oh god, please stop!" he begged but she ignored him, and pushed it through again.

Aaron fainted.

She Bit the thread off close to the wound and hit his face again. He woke up as she stalked furiously out of the room up the stairs into the house.

Hotch spat blood out of his mouth.

_I was going to take you to my bed....._

In the name of all things holy, who was this woman? Her bed?

Oh god oh god oh god he had to get out of here. He didn't dare shout for help. She could easily kill him if he upset her. He pulled at the restraints on his wrists, twisting and pulling, but she knew how to tie knots – the more he pulled the tighter the restraints became, and after a while he was afraid that the blood to his fingers was cut off. He hoped they would loosen again as his fingers tingled and stung.

-0-0-0-

It was a long cold and miserable night. He could hear the wind wrapping itself around the house, and the banging of an open basement window. If he could untie himself escape would be easy. He wanted to take in the room he was in, try to profile her, but she had left him in darkness, and it was black down here. He tried jerking then hook in the ceiling, but without a lot of use of his legs, he knew he was wasting his time.

There was no way he could sleep, although he did black out at one point when he tried to stand and the pain through his knees sent a wave of agony up into his abdomen. His chest felt like a fire was burning inside. The dirty thread and needle, and her biting it, it was sure to become infected. He thought there was no exit wound and he was concerned about the bullet being still inside him. He needed a hospital. In the morning he would ask her if a doctor could come out to see him.

He hung in wretched silence through the night. He saw light creep through the basement windows, and heard the birds singing.

He passed out from sheer exhaustion


	3. UnSub

**NO SURRENDER  
**Chapter 3  
UnSub

_**We know the road to freedom has always been **__**stalked**__** by death.**__**" – Angela Davis**_

_  
Oh he looks beautiful hanging there and the temptation to cut him down and play there and then was almost too much. He is in a faint I think and I touch his chest. He swings slightly and I wrap my arms around him._

'_Wake up, Darling.' I say. 'Need you to wake up for me.'_

_Aaron Hotchner's eyes flicker open and he tilts his head down to look at me. His eyes are dark and unfathomable. I love to feel his eyes on me._

'_Are you in pain, Darling?' I ask him. _

_He tries to say something but he's not talking. I touch his lips and he closes his eyes._

'_I am going to hurt you today, Darling. You need to be punished for what you did to Mase.'_

'_I didn't hurt Mason Lowe. He fell..... he died when he fell.'_

'_You made him fall!" I need to make him see that it is his fault that he is dead. He will not accept the punishment until he admits responsibility._

'_I need to fetch something. Please stay awake for me.'_

_I need to start the punishment, but will he ever love me if I hurt him? I will find out. I have a belt I can use on him. I hold the belt by the ends and snap it tight. I swing the belt, and the buckle smacks against Aaron Hotchner's back, ripping skin and muscle. Hotchner's back arches away from me, and he screamed._

'_If you just admit your guilt, Aaron, it won't hurt so much.'_

_His head is hanging forwards again, but his eyes are open. His breaths are coming in rough erratic sighs. It makes me want him. I swing the belt again, and the end wraps itself around him, tearing into his side. He tries to twist away from it and cries out. A few more times and he will pass out. That will give me the chance to cut him down. I bring back the belt again and swing it through the air. Blood cast off hits the wall as it impacts again with his soft white skin of his waist. He moves a little less this time._

_He is wearing down. Soon he will be ready._

_-0-0-0-_

'What the hell happened?' David Rossi said. 'How didn't you know there was a problem when you couldn't contact him?'

'There are cold zones in the city.' Mercott said. 'We assumed that he was in one.'

Dave decided not to take things any further down that blind alley. All it would succeed in doing was alienate the Police Department.

'Do we have any security video?' Morgan asked, trying to calm the situation down. 'If so we need to send it to Garcia.'

'There is some footage, but it's inconclusive.'

_To you maybe...._

'Garcia has some programs that will help that she has developed herself.' Dave said. 'I want her to see them.'

'We can arrange for that.' Mercott said, contrite. 'I've set it up for you to watch.'

'Thank you.' Calmer now, Dave and the others followed Mercott into a room where the video had been set up for them.

They watched Hotch in the car as he spoke on the phone, leading up to eleven o'clock. Then someone crossed the road in front of his car. The UnSub stood with his back to the camera, and they saw him raise his hand and shoot through the window, and they watched in horror as Hotch slumped sideways across onto the centre of the car. JJ covered her mouth with her hand as the UnSub opened the door and dragged him out onto the pavement.

'Oh god!' Emily breathed. JJ reached for Emily's hand.

The UnSub pulled one of Aaron's crutches from out of he back of the car and smashed it across his head, then hauled him to his feet and dragged him around the corner.

'That UnSub is tiny!' Reid said. 'Look at where he comes against Hotch.'

Morgan took a step forwards and paused the video. 'It's a woman. The UnSub is a woman!"

'It has something to do with Mason Lowe.' Dave said. 'Where is the photograph she left at the scene?'

Reid went to the evidence board and retrieved the copy of the photograph. 'Did Lowe have a girl friend? I can't remember there being one.'

'Well if you can't remember one,' Morgan said, 'I doubt if there was one.'

'A Death Row groupi?' Reid said. 'Although he never got as far as death row – maybe she was stalking him?'

'How do we track her?' Emily said. 'That is impossible.'

'We will have to find another way in.' Dave said. 'Continue the video.'

The UnSub's van pulled out of a side street and drove away.

'I'll see if Garcia can come up with a make or licence plate.' Morgan said. He left the room to go and speak to her. The rest of the team watched the tape until their own arrival. Dave switched it off.

'Well that's what we have to go on.' he said. 'I hope Garcia can work her magic.'

-0-0-0-

Hotchner moaned as the blood ran down his body and soaked into the waist band of his trousers. His head hung forwards and his eyes were closed. He felt his fingers growing numb as his weight was taken by his hands.

'I need a Doctor.' he gasped as the woman raised the belt again. She had blood on her hands where she had caressed his bleeding body.

'Please..... I'll die.'

'No you won't. I have stitched you up, and disinfected the wound. You will live long enough for what I want.'

'What do .......you want?' Hotch gasped. He desperately needed to be untied. He wanted to lie down and recover. 'Please, let me down.'

'You will try to escape.' She sneered. 'How stupid do you think I am. I profiled you. I set you up to come here. You fell straight into my hands, Aaron Hotchner. I even got the place where you would stake out right.'

'I can't....... escape. I can't walk without .....my crutches.'

'Forget it. I'm not ready to free you just yet.'

She dragged the chair over to him and stood on it. Hotch turned his head.

'Kiss me!' she said. Hotch didn't move. She raised her hand still holding the belt. She put the end around his neck and threaded the end through the buckle.

'Kiss me!' she said again. Hotch couldn't move. It was rare that he felt such revulsion toward another human being but he couldn't bring himself to face this woman.

She tightened the belt against his neck.

'Kiss me!'

Shakily he turned his face towards her as his lungs began to be deprived of oxygen. She pulled the belt tight around his neck and pulled his head down. She opened her mouth and kissed him deeply. He held his breath and allowed her to probe his mouth. He felt his gorge rise and fought against it. He had to pull away.

But she didn't notice. She stroked his face.

'I love you.'

Hotch just wanted to turn away, but the belt was tight against his skin and he couldn't move. He felt it tighten further and he choked.

'Don't...... can't.....' He twisted in panic as he struggled for breath. His vision began to dim and he moaned and fought against fainting. He had to stay conscious.

Suddenly she loosened the belt and he gasped and sucked in air to his starving lungs.

'Why did you do that?' he asked hoarsely 'I did what you wanted.' He coughed and winced as the muscles in his throat protested.

'You have to be punished for what you did.' She raised her hand and slapped his face. His head rocked and he felt his neck crack.

'I need some water.'

She left the chair and went to a table behind him. He tensed his body, not knowing what to expect from her. Would she beat him again, or was she really getting him a drink.

She returned with a cup. 'I have some water for you.' She said, and climbed onto the chair. She held the cup to his lips and he gratefully sucked at the water. She tipped it too far and most of it spilt onto his chest.

She took the cup away.

'You've made a mess.'

'I'm s-sorry....' Hotch said, bracing himself for what ever punishment she had planned for him.

She got off the chair again and went behind him. The attack was sudden and brutal. She hit him across the back with a length of wood. He cried out loud as skin broke and he felt blood flow. Then she came in front of him.

'You shouldn't make a mess.' she said. And she swung the bloodied length of wood at him. He tried to twist away in his agony, but the weapon caught him under the ribs and as the pain hit his brain he fainted.

'Now I can cut you down.' she said to the unconscious form hanging in front of her. Standing on the chair she reached up and with a knife from her pocket, she sliced through the rope. His inert body crashed to the floor.

'Now we can play.'

-0-0-0-

_He is so messy. All the things I thought I knew about him was wrong. Neat in a pristine white shirt and carefully pressed suit – and here he is, covered in blood, and now he has water all over him. He is lying in a heap in front of me. His arms are still above his head._

_I drag him over to the corner of my basement behind where he was hanging. I have a bed there ready for him. I am getting excited at the prospect of some games now._

_It is difficult to get him on the bed. I am not very tall and he is a good six feet. I go to the opposite side of the bed and drag him on by the arms. I think for a moment there that he is about to wake up, but he doesn't._

_He is lying across the bed faced down, and I turn him over. He groans – I may have hit him too hard, but he was messy, and had to be taught a lesson._

_Pulling him around so that his head is on the pillow is hard work, but I get him in position at last. I attach his still tied together wrists to the brass bed head, and his ankles to the two side posts of the foot board._

_His head is to the side, and his hair has fallen across his face and I REALLY LOVE HIM. But he has a lot to learn. He is still dressed from the waist down and I toy with the idea of stripping him, but I decide to wait._

_I sit astride his hips and lean down and turn his face towards me._

Oh god he's beautiful......... What do I do?

_I kiss his cold lips, and caress him. I need him to wake up now. I gently hold his face still._

'_Wake up Darling.' I whisper. 'Time to play....'_

_He moves slightly beneath me, groaning as the new position of his muscles tell him I've moved him._

'_You are on the bed with me, Darling.'_

_His eyes fluttered open and stared up at me. He tried to speak – at least his mouth moved. I bent closer to hear what he was saying._

'_Please, let me go.......'_

_Now as you can imagine, that really annoyed me. I wasn't punishing him, I was making him better. And now he thought I was going to let him go._

_I hit his face with my fist._

'_You ungrateful son of a bitch! I am here trying to make you happy, comforting you after your well deserved punishment. And now you reject me!'_

_I tell him I was going to let him have another drink, and even some food. Not now though._

'_You have hurt me now. You can wait until tomorrow.'_

'_Please.......' I thought for a minute there that he was going to cry, but alas he didn't. Had he cried I might have been able to forgive him, hold him close and forgive him._

_I tightened the ropes around his ankles and wrists, and hit him again with the wooden bar. I hit him on the soft flesh just above his hips and I make him sick. Good, you filth. Lie in that all night._

_He doesn't look so lovely now. I don't want to play._

_I turn off the light and leave him to bleed._


	4. Love Me

**NO SURRENDER  
**Chapter 4  
Love Me

_**There is no moral phenomena at all, only moral interpretation of phenomena – Frederick Nietzsche**_

'If she was stalking Lowe, chances are she was in contact with other inmates before Lowe.' Reid said.

The team were sitting around the table in the LAPD offices. They had to have a lead to Hotch. Garcia had estimated her height as being just under five feet and overweight, Memorable, if she had visited any one in prison.

'Make some calls, Reid, and if you need to visit, take Morgan with you.' Rossi said. Death row was not a place for Reid to go to alone.

'We have the van now.' Emily said as Reid left to make some calls. 'But there were no licence plates. She had covered it up.'

'She couldn't have driven far with the plates covered.' Morgan said. 'I'll see if I can find any more security videos in the surrounding streets.'

Rossi rubbed at his eyes. This UnSub was a psychopath and she had Hotch. She had killed the random people in the drive bys simply to lure the BAU, and to entrap Hotch. He couldn't believe that they had walked straight into the trap. There would be no more shootings, of that he was sure. Not now she had what she wanted.

-0-0-0-

Reid and Morgan parked up inside the prison. The Governor was expecting them. They were disarmed at the entrance as they drove in. These people imprisoned here were among the most dangerous killers in the country. Already Reid felt nervous being there. He remembered when he and Hotch had gone to interview a death row in mate Chester Hardwick in Connecticut, and that had almost ended in disaster. He was glad Morgan was with him.

Kyle Rana was a nasty looking man, and Reid couldn't understand how these men had women falling over themselves to write to them.

_I'm in the wrong job!_

Rana scowled at the two agents as they came into the room.

'We want to talk to you about a woman who came to visit you on occasions.' Morgan said.

'I have lots of women who all want me.' He said. 'And some men too!' he added with a leer at Reid. Reid visibly recoiled.

'We are interested in one in particular.' Reid said, trying to keep his voice in check. 'A small woman, about five feet tall, and overweight.'

'Ahh! Cyndie. The lovely Cyndie.' Kyle grinned. 'Pity they wouldn't allow conjugal visits. I could have knocked her rotten teeth out.'

'When did you last hear from her?' Morgan asked.

Kyle looked dreamy for a moment, then, 'About six months ago. Now piss off.'

'We need the letters she wrote. The officers are checking out your room at the moment.' Reid said. 'Thank you for your time.'

'Anything for you. Pity about the conjugal visits rule.' He sneered. 'I could have you.'

Reid forced himself not to react, but he couldn't prevent the blush. Rana laughed as he was led out of the room by two armed guards.

'Delightful man.' Morgan said under his breath as they left the prison.

'Yeah. Charming.' Reid said.

-0-0-0-

Hotch woke up shivering on the bed. It was wet with blood and bodily fluids, and he couldn't control the trembling of his limbs. He had no sense of time, and he thought it was night as there was little light coming through the windows. His beaten body hurt – muscles protested at the new position and his eyes were sore. His throat rasped on each searing breath, and he felt faint with thirst.

He twisted his wrists in the rope in an effort to escape, and felt the knots tighten. He groaned as the ropes cut into the scarring on his right wrist. His legs felt heavy and useless, and he thought not for the first time that even if he did get the knots undone he wouldn't get far.

He froze as he heard the basement door open and closed his eyes against the glare of the lights. The woman came and stood over him.

'I decided to bring you some food, Hotchner.' She said. He watched in trepidation as she took a flask out of her bag and tipped some of its contents into a cup. It looked like some kind of grey porridge, and Aaron was suddenly no longer hungry.

She held a spoon loaded with the muck against his lips, and he turned his head. It smelt fishy, and was making him feel sick. Suddenly she pulled his face round and squeezed his jaw to open his mouth and forced the foul smelling stuff between his lips. He tried to spit it out, but she held onto his nose and mouth so that he had to swallow. The instant she moved her hand he threw it back up onto the bed. His eyes watered and he coughed and gagged until his stomach was empty again.

He was rewarded with a punch in the mouth. His teeth bit into his lip and blood ran in a thin line from his mouth.

'Why are you doing this to me?' he asked. 'I didn't hurt your man. I wasn't with him when he died.'

'You are responsible. You are their leader.'

Hotch blinked. 'I am sorry that he died. We would have saved him if we could.'

'LIAR!'

'Please can I have a drink.'

She walked away.

-0-0-0-

_I made him some food. I thought he would be hungry, and he literally threw it back in my face. Now he wants water. I want to play. There is a sharp knife in the drawer of the table, and I get it out. This will be fun; it is time to remove his clothes._

_The knife is glinting in the evening light coming through the low windows of the basement. I take it over to where Hotch is lying shivering on the wet bed._

'_Look here!' I say, and show him the blade. He cowers away from me, his eyes fixed on it. I lay the blade on his stomach and watch with amusement as he draws his body away from it. I hook the tip of the blade under his waist band and slice down his leg. Then I do the same to the other leg and his trousers fall away. Climbing on the bed, I kneel astride him and touch his chest. His skin is really cold, and for the first time, I feel worried about him._

_I nuzzle into his neck. Again he is turning away from me. You would think he would have learned his lesson by now. I reach down to the floor where the blood spattered belt is lying. Quickly I wrap it around his neck and thread the end through the buckle. Using the end of the belt I pull him close to me and kiss him. This time he doesn't fight it, and he allows me to probe his mouth with my tongue. _

'_There, my Darling.' I whisper to him, touching and stroking him. 'I knew you would love me.'_

-0-0-0-

Reid and Morgan put the letters and cuttings that Cyndie had sent Rana on the table in the conference room. There were certainly a lot of them, and Rana had kept all the envelopes, which meant they had post marks.

But the most exciting thing was the photograph she had sent him. Reid pinned it up on the evidence board.

'Cynthia Chaucer.' Rossi said. 'We just need an address.'

'These post marks don't help.' Reid said. 'They are from all over the country.'

'Eleven ten.' said Morgan, looking at his watch. 'No shooting.'

'It was a lure, to get us here.' Dave said. 'Chaucer must live near here.'

Reid went over to where the map was pinned to the wall.

'We decided earlier that the UnSub lives in this area.' Reid said, indicating the apex of the arc. 'If she is holding Hotch at home, it must be a residence on its own, or the neighbours could hear his...... they would hear.....' He drifted off, not wanting to think of Hotch being hurt, but certain that he would be.

'She could work in the area.' Emily said. 'I'll get Garcia on to it.'

Garcia searched the name.

'I don't have an address', she said. 'But I have a possible place of work.'

She gave the address of a biscuit packing plant where a Cynthia Chaucer used to work. They might be able to get the address from there. Reid checked the address on the map.

'It's very close to the apex.' he said.

'Reid, come with me to the factory.' Dave said. 'Morgan and Emily, see if she had any known associates we can check out, in case we can't get the address.'

-0-0-0-

'She used to work here', the line manager said, 'But we've not seen her now for about six months.'

Reid and Rossi sat in Mr Poulter's 'office' – a grubby partitioned off alcove reeking of cigarettes. Reid made a mental note to give up biscuits. Poulter was looking through a filing cabinet drawer to find her file.

'Her details may have been destroyed. We are only required to keep......... ahh here it is, Cynthia Chaucer.'

He took the folder out of the cabinet and put it on the desk with a flourish.

'What was she like as a work colleague?' Dave asked.

'She was a little odd, kept herself away from the other workers. Always reading books about crime.'

'Did you fire her?' Reid asked

'She just stopped coming to work. We wrote a letter of dismissal, but we heard nothing more from her.'

'Do you have an address?' Rossi asked.

Poulter scribbled an address down on a scrap of paper and gave it to Dave who thanked him.

'If by any chance you should hear from her', Reid said, handing him a card, 'Please contact us. It is vital that we find her.'

Poulter took the card and shook their hands.

'Thank you for your co-operation Sir.' Dave said, and they made their way out and back to the car.

-0-0-0-

She had been holding his head up by the belt around his neck. She allowed his head top drop back into the filth on the bed. Blood and muck was encrusted in his hair and seeing him lie there like that, helpless and vulnerable, excited her, and she wrapped her arms around his cold body and rested her head on his chest. She could feel the soft rise and fall of his breathing, and hear his heart beating behind broken ribs. She touched the place where she had stitched up the gun shot wound. It felt hot whereas the rest of his body was cold. He was unconscious, and she used the time to gently clean the wound. Pressing on it released the poison that had been building up, and he moved under her hands and groaned as the pain almost brought him round.

'Shh it's ok.' she whispered. 'Stay asleep.'

She wiped the mess away with the cut fabric of his trousers, and climbed off the bed. She ran up the stairs to her house and collected a thin grubby blanket from her bedroom and brought it down and covered him with it. His body trembled with the cold, but his fore head was beaded with sweat, and she was afraid he was going to die. She uncovered his chest and anointed the gun shot wound with the iodine.

His eyes snapped open at the sudden searing pain, and his eyes for a moment flashed with deep seated fear.

'I will take care of you, Darling.' she said. 'I don't want you to die.'

'Need .....doctor...' he said weakly. 'Please.'

'No need.' she said gently. 'You have me to take care of you.'

'Please.... I will d-die..... infected.... please.'

She could feel the anger build up again, and she pulled hard on the belt around his neck. Aaron's head lifted off the bed and he made a choking sound. He tried to raise his head higher to relieve the tightening, but with his arms tight above him, he was limited in movement. His eyes widened as he fought to breathe.

When he had passed out again, she dropped the belt.


	5. The End of the Road

**A/L Noncon warning.**

**NO SURRENDER  
**Chapter 5  
The End of the Road

_Feeling his flesh quiver beneath my fingers is so exciting. He is asleep and dreaming. I wish I could walk in his dreams with him, share his fantasies and hopes. Maybe when he trusts me fully, when he loves me, he will invite me to his hidden safe place. I have dreams too. Mase used to visit me, but now Aaron Hotchner comes to me. I want the dreams to be real, and seeing him lying helpless and sleeping makes me wonder if I am dreaming this._

_Some times I even doubt my sanity. _

_I touch him, stroke him; his cool white skin moves beneath my fingers as he wanders his hidden dreams and he moans softly, shifting his position. I climb on the bed and adjust his clothing so that he is ready for me. I sit astride him and lean down, kissing him gently on his soft cool lips. I nuzzle into him, I put my arms around him and lift him slightly from the bed and hold him close to my bare skin._

_Oh god he is so beautiful. I hold his face between my hands and rape him with all my love, gently, soothingly. I tenderly press my face against the soft texture of his neck and I suck his salty skin. I want to bite, leave a mark on what is mine. Brand him with my name. I can't help biting. I sink my teeth into his skin and suddenly he is awake and trying to get me off him._

_I can't let him go, but he no longer wants me. I know he is weak and ill. I have not given him any food and hardly anything to drink and this is day three. I know I need to feed him, or he will die. But I offered him food and he rejected it. I will give him water. I stay on him and bite round where the belt is cutting a welt on his lovely neck._

_I can taste blood where I have broken the skin. I can hear him softly protest as I move on him, but the dream is over. I lean on his chest and he cries out as I disturb broken ribs and I can feel the vibration of the bones grinding together. His head is turned to the side and he is biting his lip. I can see his eyes water as he is fighting the pain._

_I'll give him pain; he should never have rejected me._

-0-0-0-

Aaron was lost in a soft velvet dream – an escape from the horrors of what his life had suddenly become. Floating in sensual nothingness, he can move here, no painful restraints holding him, no agony with every breath.

He reached out his arms. There were lights in the darkness, like stars. People he loved surrounded him, touching him, promising him hope in his hopelessness. He relaxed in the freedom he had found, gently floating painlessly. He cried in his dream, waiting for it to shatter, and a sudden pain tore him away from the peace.

The woman was upon him, raping him, taking what she wanted. His remaining dignity was being torn from him as he lay without hope, captured in a new life of horror and fear.

He squirmed as she sank her teeth into his neck and he felt the blood trickle down his neck into his hair.

'No. please d-don't touch me!' He tried to push her off him, but he felt her press down on his ribs and the pain of the bones moving made his eyes water. He bit down on his lip to stop involuntary screaming.

She slid off the bed and threw the blanket over him.

'You rejected me again!' she said threateningly, her voice low and brittle. Grabbing hold of the belt she jerked it tight. 'Will you ever learn?'

Aaron felt the belt buckle cut into his skin and she pulled it hard. He choked again, and his eyes widened in panic as he lost consciousness again.

-0-0-0-

Emily paced the small room, thinking about how she had practically ignored Hotch since he'd been back at work, and now he was missing and in danger again, the feelings she had for him had risen to the surface. It was difficult for her to understand her feelings – she had never been good at profiling herself, and she was often surprised by her own reactions to things. Her mother had never encouraged her to self analyse.

She had a small photograph of him in her purse, and she took it out to look at it. She was not sure why she carried it, but she could not bring herself to throw it away.

There was definitely something about him; she loved his helplessness, his vulnerability. But she didn't need his strength; she had her own and had no need of his.

She heard the door behind her open and she quickly slid the picture home.

Aaron Hotchner – what is it about you that confuses me so?

-0-0-0-

Reid and Rossi wanted to check out the address that Pouter had given them, but really needed back up in case she was there. Reid called Morgan on his cell and when they arrived at the end of the road where Cynthia Chaucer's house was, Morgan and Prentiss were already there. They stood together in the afternoon drizzle, and decided how to approach the house.

The house stood alone at the end of the narrow street. There was no van in the drive, and from where they were they could see one of the basement windows banging on its frame in the wind.

The four agents moved along the street, keeping to the shadows of the trees that lined the pavement. They saw that the drive way led behind the house, and there was a garage where the van could be hidden.

Morgan and Prentiss followed the drive round to the back of the house, and stood in the shadows. The banging of the lose window and the sound of the rain on the trees gave the house an eerie atmosphere. Slowly and silently the agents crept to the back door and stood either side of it, waiting.

Rossi and Reid went to the front door.

'FBI! Open the door.'

They stood either side of the door, matching Morgan and Prentiss's stance in the back garden. Reid reached out and turned the handle. The door swung open, creaking slightly in the damp afternoon air. Rossi went in low, Reid behind him. Quickly they cleared the rooms downstairs, and opened the back door for Morgan and Prentiss, who went upstairs and checked each room.

Reid opened the door to the basement. The smell was overwhelming. He put his hand over his nose and mouth. He silently drew the door closed again.

'Rossi!' he called softly. 'There's something dead in the basement.'

The four agents stood by the door and Reid opened it again. Rossi stepped through the door and felt for a light switch. The place was bathed in a murky glow.

'Oh my good heavens!' Emily breathed.

The four agents descended into the basement in single file. The sound of flies buzzing against the incessant drizzle and the banging of the open window added to the impression of darkness, even though the room was bathed in light. The corpse was blackened and seemed to be moving with maggots. It was hanging by its arms from a hook in the ceiling. Whoever it was had been dead for a while. Dave went close to it and noted that he or she had been naked when they died.

'is it....?' Emily asked, afraid of the answer.

Reid had his hand over the lower part of his face still, so no one could see the scared expression on his face.

'It isn't Hotch.' Dave said. 'This one has been dead for a few weeks I think.'

Morgan went up the stairs to get a cell signal and called the LAPD. Reid moved around the room, checking to see if there was any evidence that Hotchner had ever been there, but there wasn't any.

'At least we know now that we have the right UnSub.' Emily said, joining Rossi next to the body. She shone her flashlight on the floor below the corpse.

'The feet are touching the ground.' She said.

'That wouldn't help Hotch.' Reid said, a slight tremor in his voice. 'Look here.'

Reid was standing by a bed in the corner of the room. He played his flashlight over the sheets on the bed. 'Semen stains.'

'So in all probability, the body belongs to a man.' Morgan said. There was a pile of clothing on the floor that he was checking out. 'The shirt is intact, the trousers have been cut off.' he said. 'The clothes are old. He could be homeless.'

'A practice run.' Dave said under his breath. 'We need to find Hotch. And quickly.'

-0-0-0-

_My favourite weapon is the length of wood. It still has blood and hair on it from last time I hit him, but that time he wasn't injured already. I raise it over my head and bring it down __on his abdomen just above his hips. He didn't scream, but he made a sound of pain from the back of his throat. I think I hurt his neck and now he can't even scream!_

_Something is working out anyway._

_I touch the place where I hit him – a reddish mark that darkens as I look at it. It feels hot, and I think he is bleeding._

_I hit him again. No sound this time though. The wood makes a different sound as it impacts with his skin. He turns his head and looks at me with those gorgeous dark unfathomable eyes._

'_I love you.' I tell him, and hit him a third time. This time he rolls his eyes and passes out._

-0-0-0-

Hotchner was not moving on the bed, and for a moment, she was afraid she may have killed him…The beating she had given him as punishment for his rejection of her had split the wood lengthways, she had hit him so hard. She had tried to keep the area where she hit him as small as possible. She didn't want him dead, but his lower abdomen was blackening now as blood flowed under the skin. She thought he was bleeding internally. She untied him, and with her arms around his chest under his arms, she dragged him back to where the hook was in the ceiling, and she threaded a rope through the loop, the other end between his restrained wrists. She pulled on the other end of the rope, and hauled Hotchner onto his feet. His head hung forwards and his eyes were closed. She couldn't see him breathing. She wondered if he was dead.

-0-0-0-

_Enough on the bed, I want to hang him up again like the useless creature he is. I undo his ankles and the knot holding his wrists. I turn him and drag him off the bed and across the floor to the hook. This will be his last position. I think his injuries are fatal. I don't know how long he will last now._

-0-0-0-

'Take a look at these books.' Reid said, taking one off the shelf in Chaucer's living room.

At first the room looked as if it belonged to someone of above average intelligence; there were books lining three of the walls, and an old desk and chair along the fourth. But on closer inspection they revealed something rather sinister.

'"The Corpse Garden"' read Emily. 'What's it about?'

'The Wests.' Reid answered. 'English serial killers of the Folie a Deux kind.'

'All these books are on true crime. Aileen Wournos, Gacy, Dahmer- there're all here.' Morgan said. 'This woman is seriously disturbed.'

Reid was quiet. Hotch was in great danger, and he was no where near finding him. He went to the desk. There had to be something here that would tell them where Hotch was. He saw the image of the corpse downstairs. He couldn't bear the thought of the man he loved being left like that.

Time was running out, but even he didn't know how quickly.


	6. Dying and a Death

**NO SURRENDER  
**Chapter 6  
Dying and a Death

"_**Courage is the discovery that you may not win, and trying when you know you can lose." - Tom Krause **_

  
The fourth day, and Aaron didn't wake up in the morning. The woman checked him and was glad to find he was breathing still, although the breathing was shallow and erratic. His lips were dry and cracked today. He hadn't had a drink since that first day and would be seriously dehydrated by now. She tipped iodine on the chest wound, hoping the sudden pain would wake him up. It was pointless administering punishment to an unconscious man.

He groaned and shifted, but his eyes didn't open.

'Wake up Honey.' she said. She stood on the chair and kissed him, but still he didn't wake up. 'Come on, Darling, it's not time to die yet.'

She went and got some water, suddenly feeling a panic rise in her. She suddenly realised that she didn't want him to die. She opened his mouth and she poured a little water. Aaron swallowed, and licked a drop of water from his lips.

'That's it, Honey, wake up now.' She dripped water in his mouth again and he licked his lips. His eye lids fluttered and he opened his eyes and looked at her. She noticed his eyes had lost the lustre they previously had.

'Please....' he whispered,' I need...... a doctor...' He coughed and vomited blood onto the floor in front of him. His eyes watered as the pain tore at him as his stomach twisted. She put a hand on his cheek.

'I can take care of you.' she said to him, stroking him gently. He was too weak to protest. She wiped the blood off his lips and kissed him again.

'I love you.' she whispered.

'I'm dying.' he whispered back.

-0-0-0-

_I think he's bleeding internally. I don't know what to do I don't want him to die, not now. But I can't take him to the hospital or I will lose him. I need to do this myself. He needs to be back on the bed. I cut down the rope holding him up. I know he cannot escape. He crashes to the floor at my feet and I want to make love to him again. I drag him back to the bed and pull him onto the filthy mattress. I have to be so careful because I don't want to hurt him any more – not yet, anyway. Yes he needs to be punished for the way he has behaved, but killing him is no longer what I need to do. I want to keep him as my secret lover. I will make him better and then he will be my lover. I pull him round again, and tie him as I did before. He is too weak to escape, but I need to drain the blood from his abdomen, and he might struggle._

_I tie him down across his chest and hips, using belts. This is not so much to stop him from escaping – I don't think he's able to – but to hold him still while I drain the blood from his peritoneum. If he wakes up it is sure to hurt. I have a tube I can use to drain it, and a syringe to replace the blood in his veins. I don't really know what I'm doing. And I need to stop the bleeding._

_He is shaking his head from side to side and moaning, although he is still asleep. I pour iodine across his abdomen where the bruise is growing. I have a craft knife, and I slice across the black and red bruise. The blood that runs out is dark and thick. The smell made her gag. He is waking up and I don't know what to do._

-0-0-0-

'Look at this.' Prentiss said, standing in front of an open wardrobe. The other's come and stand behind her and look in shocked silence at the pictures pasted over the inside. There are hundreds of pictures of Lowe, and a few of Rana. But the ones that grabbed their attention were the ones in the centre of the back of the wardrobe. Candid shots of Hotch stuck over the top of the others, with crosses through them. Reid touched one.

'She was in a rage when she drew the crosses.' he said. 'See how she has torn the paper on some of them with the pen.' Reid's voice shook. He needed Aaron badly. he needed to tell him...........

_Hotch, hold on, we are getting closer..... Hold on to life, Hotch, don't let go........ _

'Where has she taken him? There must be a clue around here!' Morgan said. His fists were clenched, and he went over to the desk again.

In the centre of the top of the open desk was a small drawer. Morgan pulled the drawer out and turned it over. Taped to the bottom was a small key.

'I have something here.' he said. The others tore themselves away from the disturbing images to see what Morgan had found. He held the key up. 'Safety deposit box.' he said.

-0-0-0-

Looking down at the pale bleeding man on the bed, she realised that she had lost control of the situation. He was going to bleed to death in front of her unless she could get a doctor for him. His eyes were open and pleading as dark blood flowed out of the cut onto the bed.

She took his hand. 'I will get you some help.' she said. 'don't die.'

She pressed a towel onto the cut she had just made and he moaned with pain. His body jerked as she tied it in place with a belt. His face was cold as she kissed his cheek and said good bye.

Later standing outside the hospital with Hotch's gun in her pocket, she wondered how she was going to do this. She watched the staff walking between the buildings, and waited until there was a man on his own. She walked across the road in front of him and faked twisting her ankle. The man came to help her. As he knelt beside her she produced the gun.

'Don't react, doctor, or I will shoot you. Now stand up slowly and help me onto my feet.'

He reached out his hand and she stood up, still holding the gun pointed at his stomach.

'Now come with me to my car.'

'What do you want me for?' he asked in a high frightened voice.

'You are going to help a friend of mine.' She unlocked her car door and gestured him into the driver's seat. Then quickly she went round to the other side.

Holding the gun against his waist, she directed him along the streets, leaving the city and out into the open plain. He didn't speak until the car was driving across the plain, leaving the city behind.

'Tell me about your friend.' he said in a shaky voice. 'Just so I can be ready.'

'He has internal bleeding. I need you to fix him.'

The doctor nodded. 'And what if I can't do it? What then?'

'Then you die as well.'

-0-0-0-

_I don't want him to see how scared I am. I think it might be too late already. I have killed lots of people but I don't want Hotchner to be one of them. I realise that Mase has been out of my thoughts now, and Aaron Hotchner is taking over._

'I am sorry, Mase....'

_We drive for a few minutes, and turn off the road towards my Grandfather's house. I can see it now, and I tell my doctor that we are almost there. He stops the car close to the front door, and we get out. I take the keys from him and put them in my pocket. If he made off with the car, I'd be finished._

'_This way.' I nudge him in the back and he walks in front of me to the door. Every step closer to Hotchner, I fear a little more that he will be dead when we reach him. I poke the gun hard into the doctor's back._

'_Move it!' I tell him. He stumbles forward towards the basement door_

-0-0-0-

The towel was drenched with blood when they reached him, but Hotchner was clinging to life still. She gave the doctor the craft knife and iodine and sat back to watch.

'Don't let him die.' she said. 'If he dies, you die.'

The doctor realised at that point that she was going to kill him anyway. He had to play for time.

'Who is this man? How did he get beaten like this?' he asked, uncovering the cut I made in his stomach.

'He is my fiancé.' she said, taking Hotch's cold still hand.

He worked on Hotch for an hour, trying to locate the bleed, closing it off and cleaning him up afterwards. Hotch was in a deep coma now, and didn't react to what was happening. The doctor had blood up to his elbows.

'I have done what I can.' he said. 'He needs proper care and antibiotics.'

'Just do your part.' she said to him.

He stood back and looked at the man lying on the filthy bed, soaked in blood and other body fluids.

'He had a ruptured bowel, and severe bleeding. He is dehydrated, and needs an IV drip of antibiotics. I have done what I can, but he may still die.' he said. 'He will develop peritonitis. Will you allow me to take him to hospital?'

'Step back from him now.' she said, 'And kneel down.'

He stepped way from her. 'He isn't safe yet.'

'Kneel down and face away from me.'

He knelt down. She cocked the gun and pressed it into the back of his head.

'Please don't kill me. I have children.' he sobbed. 'I helped you.'

Without a word she pulled the trigger and blew the front part of his head off. blood and brain and bits of splintered bone shot forward in a fountain and stuck to the wall.

She knelt beside him and turned him over. His badge said "Tony Vernon. Junior Houseman."

'I am sorry Tony Vernon, but I couldn't let you go.'

She dragged the body away from the bed and left him in the corner of the room. Then she went back and sat with Hotchner.

'You can wake up now, Hotch. You are going to be ok.'

She took his cold white hand in hers and held it against her face.

'Please wake up, Aaron Hotchner.' She started to cry.

-0-0-0-

_I pick up the bottle of water I have left on the floor. There is blood on it, and something else. I wipe it away with my sweater, and pour a little in his mouth. I thought he would drink it, but instead he coughs and chokes on it. I turn his head to the side and try to help him breathe again. When he stops choking I'm not sure if it's because he has died, and the now familiar feeling of panic rises. But he licks his dry lips and reassures me that he is still here._

'_A doctor has fixed you.' I tell him._

_He turns his head to the side and vomits again. His eyes water precious fluid. Each breath sounds like a sigh, and each time I pray that it is not his last._

_-0-0-0-_

**A/N – Slightly shorter chapter this time. I will probably post again today.**


	7. The Key

**NO SURRENDER  
**Chapter 7  
The Key

_**And I want you so it's an obsession – Song by Eurythmics (Love is a Stranger)**_

'There are no markings on the key.' Reid said. 'We will have to contact the banks until we find the right one.'

'Penelope should be able to help us there.' Rossi said. 'Get us a list of banks in the city that have the facility, and we will need a warrant to open it when we find it.

Morgan was on the phone to Garcia before he had finished his sentence. All the team were thinking the same thing – the body in the basement, a practice run of what she was now doing to Hotch.

'Hey Derek, You have something for me to do?'

'Yes Doll. I need a list of all the banks in the city that have safety deposit boxes. We've found a key and we're hoping that the contents of the box will lead us to Hotch.'

'I hope so. Is that our only lead.'

'Yes but it's a good one.' Morgan said with more optimism than he felt.

'List on its way. Sending it to your phones now.' Garcia said.

'Thank you Baby Girl.' Morgan cut the connection and turned to the others. 'The list should be on your phones now.'

'I'll get us a warrant.' Dave said, calling up the judge. 'You stay here and search again, I'll visit the judge.'

Dave left the house still on the phone. The others continued their search of the house. Reid picked up a framed photograph.

'Look at this.' he said. 'This is Chaucer with an elderly man. There are no other pictures of her with anyone else. Who do you suppose this is?'

'Father? Grandfather?' Emily said. 'There's no record of who her father is.'

'There is no death certificate for the grandfather. He could still be alive.'

'We need to trace him. According to the records, she has no family.' Reid said 'The mother died when she was a teenager. The father isn't named on the birth certificate. This', he said, indicating the photograph, 'Must be the maternal grandfather.'

'Ok', Morgan said. 'We need to search the place for evidence of the maternal grandfather – photographs, documents, anything.'

He began his search in the desk.

-0-0-0-

The woman sat next to Hotch The blood had clotted on the mattress and smelt awful.

'I need to change the sheet and turn over the mattress.' she said to him. 'I will need you to get off the bed.'

She untied his hands and feet, and released the belts around his chest and hips. When ever she touched his skin, he moaned with the pain. She felt his body was warmer now, but she wondered if that was a systemic infection rather than a reaction to the operation. He didn't move his arms.

She rolled him onto his side, and bunched the sheet under his back. Then she rolled him towards her and pulled the sheet out. She threw it to one side.

'Now I need to get you off the bed.'

She brought his arms down to his side. The sudden pain of his arms being in a new position woke him and he cried out in agony and distress. She pulled him off the bed and laid him on the floor. He closed his eyes and moaned with the pain and sickness he felt. She quickly turned the mattress over, and, leaving him on the floor, ran upstairs for a towel and sheet. When she came back down, Hotch was trying to move away, but even had he managed to move far, the blood trail he left was easy to follow.

She put the sheet on the bed, then the towel. Then she tried to lift him back onto the bed. She clasped her arms around him from behind, but she held him too tight, and he vomited onto the floor.

'Listen to me, Hotchner.' she hissed at him. 'I don't want to punish you again. I don't want to kill you, but if you keep doing this, I will have to hurt you again.'

She went round the other side of the bed and tried dragging him onto the bed, and although it was excruciatingly painful for him, he made no sound, and allowed her to place him where she wanted him on the clean bed.

'I need to wash you.' she said. There was a sink in the corner of the room, and she collected some water and a cloth. She put the bowl on the edge of the bed and climbed on to sit astride him again.

The smell of the blood was making her feel sick, and using the cloth, starting with his face and hair, she carefully cleaned him up, all the time talking to him. His body was burning up now, as the infection raged within him. She combed her fingers through his hair and tenderly touched his face. As the wet cloth wiped the dried vomit from his lips, he opened his mouth for water.

'Please....' he begged 'I need water.'

She rinsed the cloth out in the bowl and rung it out. She watched in satisfaction as she dripped water into his mouth and he accepted it eagerly.

'You are totally mine now, Hotchner.' she said smiling 'Only I can provide what you need. Your life depends on me. Whether you live or die depends only on me.'

She leaned down and kissed his lips. He didn't respond.

'I will make you some food.' she whispered to him.

'Please, just water.' he said. He tried to roll onto his side, and he was sick again, blood, stomach acids and bile. She wiped it away angrily, using the towel he was lying on.

'I have just cleaned you!' she shouted 'And now look!' and she smacked his face with the back of her hand. Blood sprayed from his fragile cracked lips as his head jerked to the left. She kissed him again.

-0-0-0-

_When I look at him lying in beneath me, I am overwhelmed by his vulnerability, but at the same time, his strength of character and his will to live. I cannot help but love this man. When I washed him, and the cool water ran over his hot skin, I felt a surge of excitement such as I have never felt; watching it run in little streams across his body and dripping onto the towel. Then he was sick and ruined it all._

_I am glad I brought the doctor to him. I knew I would have to kill him, but his death was fast and painless. Hotchner's death will be drawn out and painful._

_I don't know why he is being sick all the time. Tony said he needed antibiotics. Maybe I was a bit quick in killing him. I felt threatened by him though. He had to die. If Hotchner is taken away from me, I don't know how I would carry on. I want him to get better, although he will always have to look to me for everything he needs. Now I have stripped him of his strength, he is mine to do as I please with. _

_I need to get antibiotics for him, but I don't know how. I will have to steal some, steal a doctor's bag from a car. That means going back to the hospital again._

_I explain all this to Hotchner. I hope he understands why I have to leave him alone again. _

_I am now lying beside him, kissing his neck._

'_Please understand, I am not deserting you. I need to find some antibiotics for you.' I tell him. 'I will need to tie you up again first though.'_

_He's crying now as I pull his arms above his head and tie his hands to the bed frame again. I think he's in a lot of pain, but once I get the antibiotics, he will be fine._

_His legs I pull apart and tie them by the ankles to the bed posts. As I tighten the knots, the man has a convulsion, arching his back and crying out in sheer agony as his body twists under the bonds. His eyes water, and they are open, staring and frightened._

_I kiss his lovely lips and leave him alone in the dark._

-0-0-0-

The fourth bank that Dave and Derek go, and the manager recognises the key.

'Yes it is one of ours.' he said, 'But of course I cannot allow you access to it. Our discretion is why our customers come here.'

'We have a warrant for the contents on the box.' Dave said, 'And a man's life might well depend on what we find there.'

'You will have to return when the bank is about to close.' he said back with a sigh. 'I would not want our regular customers to witness such a desecration.'

'I think we will have a look now.' Morgan said, taking a threatening step forward. Rossi worked with diplomacy, and had never quite got used to Morgan's intimidating ways. However, a lot of the time, like now, the intimidation won over the diplomacy. The Bank Manager stood.

Very well. Follow me.' he said. The two men followed him through a door at the back of the office.

-0-0-0-

Cyndie was back at the hospital again. She knew that not many doctors would be foolish enough to leave their bag in full view, but she had to hope that one would, and that the bag would hold some drugs that she needed.

Bent forward, hoping that she would not be seen, she crept along the lines of cars in the car park. After checking the first row, and half way down the second, she found what she was searching for. She picked up a large stone, and broke a window. Carefully sliding her hand through the hole in the glass she unlocked the door and took the bag.

She sat on the ground next to the car and started to go through the bag. There were some drugs there, but she suddenly realised that she didn't really know what to look for.

'What the hell do you think you're doing!' someone behind her shouted. She tried to get up, to run, but the man held her by the back collar of her sweat shirt, and pulled her to her feet. 'You had better come with me.' he said, placing the bag over his shoulder, and leading her through the car park to the main building. 'The police will want to talk to you.'

She pulled against the man holding her. She tried to twist out of his grasp, anything to get away. But this guy was strong, and she was pulled along to his office inside the main building.

-0-0-0-

Dave listened to what the cop said and broke the connection. 'Derek, we have a break.' he said. 'Cynthia Chaucer has been arrested breaking into a car at the hospital. We need to get there now.'

'I'll call the others.' Morgan said. Dave removed the items from the safety deposit box, and put them in a bag provided by the manager. It was all papers and legal documents. He wondered if there was a title deed there for another property – somewhere where she could be holding their Unit Chief.

Dave thanked the manager, and they ran outside to the car. If this was the Cynthia Chaucer that had abducted Hotch, they needed to get to her right away. Hotch's life could well depend on it.

-0-0-0-

Hotchner was conscious and very sick. He retched and vomited as the infection raged through his body. The pain in his chest and lower abdomen was radiating outwards, and his stomach hurt through twisting and tightening as he threw up again and again. He was burning up with fever, and he was seriously dehydrated.

He heard someone in the room with him, but he called to them for help, and there was no-one there. He closed his eyes tightly and when the people came to touch him, he wanted them to be real, so he kept his eyes closed. He spoke to them, asking for water, but no one brought him any. Without warning his back arched and the convulsion gripped him again. The voices became silent as he lost all control.

'Please.....' he whispered. 'Don't leave me alone.....'


	8. End Game

**A/N – Character death – shorter chapter**

**NO SURRENDER  
**Chapter 8  
End Game

Reid spread out the documents from the safety deposit box on the table. Most were documents pertaining to her search for her father. But there were two title deeds, one for the house where they had found the body of the unknown man, and one of another house out of the city. The deed was under the name of Albert Chaucer.

The maternal grandfather.

He slid the papers into a pile and left the room. Dave was interviewing Cynthia, and Reid took the stairs down to the ground floor to join him.

'I will not tell you where he is!' she shouted at Rossi. 'He is mine!'

'Is he hurt?' Dave asked trying to keep calm. He kept remembering the body in the basement of her house. She said "He is mine." Did that mean they were too late? 'Does he need a doctor?'

'I brought him a doctor.' she stated. 'All I need is antibiotics. Just give me them, and let me go or he will die.'

'Where is he, Cynthia. We will take him to a hospital and make him well again.' Dave felt Morgan pacing the room behind him. This was getting no where.

'You can't have him!' she said in a low menacing tone.

'Where is the doctor?' Dave asked – let's try a different tack.

'I killed him. Never mind him; I need to get back to Hotchner. He will die if I don't get back.' she stood up and leaned forwards. 'I want antibiotics, and I need to go.'

'Please sit down.' Dave said quietly. 'We will consider what you have said.'

Dave stood up and Morgan followed him out of the room. An LAPD cop took their place and stood just inside the door. Reid was waiting for them.

'I have an address.' he said.

-0-0-0-

_Why won't they just let me go? I offered to pay for the window, and all I need is some drugs for Hotchner and he will be fine. But they need to let me go so that I can go and nurse him._

_I have left him tied to the bed, but he is very sick, and he needs me._

_I am his life giver and sustainer. Without me he is nothing._

_Without me, he dies!_

_I do not understand why they won't just let me go! I don't want them poking around my grand daddy's house. They might disturb his body. Teyt might take my Hotchner away from me._

_They have already taken Mason. But this is more. I deeply love Hotchner. I can train him, make him perfect for only me....... He is more than Mason._

_So much more._

-0-0-0-

The voices were back now, singing with the wind that wound the air tight against the house. He could hear the voices sing gentle songs to him, but the words he couldn't understand. He called to them to tell him what they were singing about but they ignored him.

'Please talk to me.....' he begged. But they took no notice.

-0-0-0-

Dave drove the SUV out of the city towards the house. Reid rode shotgun, Emily and Morgan in the back.

Garcia had said that the owner of the house was indeed Mr. Albert Chaucer, who according to the records was eighty six years old, and still alive. Which posed the question, why were the deeds in Cynthia Chaucer's safety deposit box.

They saw the house in the distance. It looked as if it began life as a pioneers' cottage. It had a veranda around two sides, with a rocking chair and hammock. Reid imagined the place years ago with the pioneer family on the veranda, learning to live in a strange new world. Smoking and watching the sun go down on the new land.......

Now the house had a desolate air to it.

And maybe they would find Hotch there.

Dave drove quickly to the front of the veranda, skidding the car round at the last minute so that it was parallel to the front wall.

The four agents got out of the vehicle. Morgan retrieved a small battering ram from the boot.

'This house would have been built without a basement, but is appears that the basement has been added afterwards.' Reid said. He pointed to a small hillock behind the property.

'If Hotch is here, that is where we will find him.' Morgan said.

Dave knocked on the door.

'Mr. Chaucer, this is the FBI. Please open the door.'

There was no sound from within. They waited for a few seconds, and Dave stepped back. Morgan swung the battering ram that he was carrying and broke open the door.

The smell in the house made them recoil. The smell was of death. The agent split up in the hall way and took a room each. Dave heard Morgan and Reid shout 'clear', the Emily said,

'Oh my good god!'

Dave went to the kitchen. Emily was standing with her gun at her side, hand over her mouth and nose staring at the body sitting at the kitchen table. Whoever it was had been dead for a long time. There was little flesh left hanging from the bones, and the clothes hung in filthy rags.

'The grandfather do you think?' Reid said.

'Where the hell is Hotch.'

'The door to the basement is out in the hall.' Morgan said.

-0-0-0-

Aaron could hear new voices – voices he knew – voices of his friends........

_~Morgan?_

_Emily?_

_Dave?_

_Spencer?_

_Quickly, Spencer, my time is running out – I am here I am here!_

_Please find me I need to tell you...._

_I need to tell you that I am sorry and I could have loved you......_

_But it is too late now._

_The door opens and light floods the room._

_Spencer is the first – I can see him coming down the stairs. I want to call to him but something is holding my lips together and I can't call him._

_I can hear his voice – he is calling my name._

_Spence I love you but there is no time now._

_Slowly I am aware of a hand undoing the restraints at my wrists and ankles._

_I lose control again and the world darkens......._

_Spencer? Spence, please don't leave me – I love you.......~_

-0-0-0-

Reid went through the door ahead of Dave, as if he was desperate to reach Hotchner first. Dave switched the light on behind him.

The smell in the basement was awful of decay and dirt. Reid put his hand across his mouth and nose, and led the others down the steps.

The hook in the ceiling was the first thing Reid noticed, blood and body fluids stained the dirt floor beneath the hook, from which hung a ragged length of rope.

'Oh god where is he?' Dave said under his breath, terrified of what he would find.

'Over there!' Emily cried, shining her flashlight towards a bed on the far side.

Hotch was lying tied to the bed on a filthy mattress. His skin looked thin and transparent under the artificial light in the basement, a stitched weeping wound across his lower abdomen, the skin around it looked dark and swollen. Reid ran across to him and began to undo the ropes holding him. His wrists and ankles were bloodied and blistered, his body looked thin and starved.

'We are here, Aaron, we are here!'

Morgan was on the phone to the emergency services. Dave and Emily were releasing his legs from the ropes. As the ropes fell away and he felt freedom, his back arched and the convulsion took him. Reid sat on the damp bed and held him against him.

He rocked him in his arms and stroked his matted hair. As the seizure subsided and Aaron relaxed in Reid's arms, Aaron opened his eyes and looked up at him. Emily brought water and Reid moistened his lips.

'Help is on its way, Hotch. Don't give up now, don't surrender.'

He licked his lips. 'I love you......Spence.' Aaron said softly. His eyes closed for the last time and he lost his fight there in Spencer's arms.

_**Have the courage to live. Anyone can die." - Robert Cody **_

**END**

**A/N Starting new thread in next story. I am almost crying here..........**


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